


A Dead Ever After Epilogue

by experimentingwithbackcombing



Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris, True Blood
Genre: Dead Ever After, post-dead ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 04:33:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/experimentingwithbackcombing/pseuds/experimentingwithbackcombing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy wedding epilogue to Dead Ever After because I needed some further closure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dead Ever After Epilogue

“Voila!” Tara said as she finished my hair. She handed me a mirror so I could look at the back of my head in the vanity. 

“Oh, Tara,” I said. I know I’ve been one to get a little weepy from time to time, but she’d done such an amazing job that I couldn’t keep my tears back. “It’s perfect.”

“Oh, no, don’t you go cryin’ on me now, Sook. You’ll ruin your makeup.” She handed me a tissue and I carefully dabbed at my eyes, being careful not to smudge any of the makeup that she’d only recently finished applying. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, reigning in the tears as best I could. I’d been a real mess so far today. When Terry Bellefleur had called in the place of Sam to tell me that everything was set for the catering at the reception, I wept openly until Tara came to the door. Poor Terry, he simply didn’t know how to react. I’d have to make it up to him later.

“Do you mind if I took a minute to call the twins before I get you dressed? I’ve left JB alone with them a little longer than I’m comfortable with.” I nodded in the affirmative and she scampered out of the room after digging her cellphone out of her purse.

Tara was a good mom and JB was a good dad, and the twins were proving to be sweet children who could, at the age of three, practically take care of themselves—though they hardly needed to.

I heard Tara barrel down the stairs of my Gran’s former home, and I was left to my own devices for a few moments in my bedroom—Gran’s old room that I’d moved into after her death—while Tara checked in with JB and the kids.

It was surprisingly quiet, even in my own head. I was trying very hard today to stay out of the heads of others. It was exhausting, but the last thing I wanted was very errant thoughts buzzing around with my own today. 

Outside some of Quinn’s guys were finishing setting up chairs in the front lawn, tying bouquets to the ends of rows, sticking torches out back, and making sure there enough tables and chairs.

I looked around my room, which was still covered in Gran’s quilts and covered in the wallpaper she’d picked out twenty years ago. The thought of her made me tear up and I tipped my head back to prevent it from going down my cheeks. I wished she could be here. She would have given me away, screw tradition, but now it was Jason who’d do that job. He was pleased to do it, but I’d have loved Gran to do it.

My cellphone rang from the top of my vanity. I jumped in surprise and made a reach for my hair as if such a jarring movement would cause it to come tumbling down like the walls of Jericho.

“Sookie?” I heard from the other end of the line.

“Is everything all right?” I replied when I recognized the voice. 

“Fine, fine. How you doin’, cher?”

“I’m great.”

“Tara told me you’ve been crying.”

Traitor! I thought. She hadn’t just called JB, she called Sam, too. Staying out of heads was having its consequences.

“The good kind,” I promised. “Gettin’ close,” I continued, “just an hour to go.”

“Meet you there?” he teased. I could practically hear the smile on his face through the phone.

“You bet,” I said, and I clicked off the phone before any more happy tears could get the best of me.

Tara burst in the door again, this time followed by Amelia Broadway, who wore a grin so large I thought it might jump straight off her face.

Amelia squealed and leapt forward to hug me, practically knocking the wind out of me as she did so. She was already wearing her dress, which was the light yellow summery fabric that Tara and I had picked out a few months before.

“Let me get in my dress,” Tara said, putting her phone back into her purse. I was going to say something about her calling Sam, but I really wasn’t angry enough with her about it to do so. “Then we’ll get you in yours.” 

During the time that she was out of the room, Tara’s hair seemed to have gone from the messy bun she’d strapped it into while she did mine to a beautiful up-do with small pieces falling artfully out. I looked suspiciously over to Amelia, who winked in lieu of answering. Of course she’d used magic. That was a little risky of her, I thought to myself. It would have been a real shame if my Matron of Honor had ended up turned into a cat.

“Zip me?” Tara asked Amelia when she came out of the bathroom. For two women with such different complexions, the yellow suited them both—balancing the pink in Amelia’s skin and bringing out the gold of Tara’s olive tones.

“Sookie, you look pretty as a picture,” Amelia doted after she zipped Tara’s dress. “Bob and I are just so thrilled to be back. It looks amazing out there. Whoever you hired did an amazing job.”

“It’s beautiful,” Tara chimed.

“And half price, too,” I replied.

“Honey, you sure you want me up there? I don’t want to ruin your pictures,” Amelia said suddenly, her hand drifting down to her stomach. She was about five months pregnant, and the bump was starting to become noticeable. 

I rolled my eyes and stood up to stretch. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I do.”

She smiled, albeit a little nervously, and walked over to the window.

“People are starting to arrive. We ought to get you in that dress,” Amelia said, putting her hands on her hips.

Tara extracted the garment bag from my closet. I’d been real careful not to gain or lose too much weight for the past few weeks. The dress fit like a glove, and I wasn’t about to jinx it.

As she unzipped the bag, I rushed off to the bathroom, remembering I wouldn’t be able to use it again tonight without a lot of effort. When I came out, Tara was unfastening the last of the long line of buttons that ran from the top of the dress to the rise of my rear.

Never before now had I spent so much money on a single outfit. Amelia had come in from New Orleans to help Tara and I wade through stores of dresses in Shreveport. As well-off as I was financially, I decided that money was still an object. I didn’t want to be one of those brides who bought a dress more expensive than the rest of the wedding, and since mine wasn’t a very expensive wedding anyway, I wanted to keep it simple.

I don’t know that much about technical fashion terms, so I was glad to have Tara and Amelia with me, who between them were able to navigate the styles and price-ranges and save me from repeated sticker shock.

Back in my bedroom, Tara and Amelia held out their arms for me to hold on to as I stepped into the dress. I wobbled slightly, but once I was standing in it, they pulled it up and I slipped my arms into the lace sleeves. 

It was a sheath-style dress,. I’d tried on everything from big poofy ball gowns to tight mermaid numbers that I could barely walk in. In the end, I settled on a dress in a cream color that, against my tanned skin, made even me gawk in the mirror at whoever the beautiful woman standing in front of it was.

The back of the dress was fine lace, as was the front décolletage, and the sleeves as well, which went only down to my elbows. There were few embellishments, nothing fancy, but I decided that Gran’s pearl earrings went wonderfully.

Tara finished the buttons on my dress as Amelia removed the veil from the plastic. It was a mantilla veil, a round lady had told me, who only became pleasant after she realized I had real money to spend and that Tara was a woman of fashion herself.

Tara took my shoes out of their box. They weren’t special, and I could probably wear them again, a fact that mollified me when I considered the entire expense of the dress and the veil and the shoes and the fact that I’d never wear most of it again. You can take the girl out of the poor but you can’t take the poor out of the girl. 

“Here,” Tara said, dashing to the vanity. “Just a little bit more of this.” She picked up the lip-gloss she’d used on me earlier, and reapplied it to my lips.

“Beautiful,” Amelia said as we all looked at the spoils of their hard work in the mirror.

“You clean up good, Sookie Stackhouse,” Tara said. She looked to the alarm clock by my bed and smiled. Quarter to five. “We’d better get you down there.”

But before we had the chance, there was a light tapping sound on the door. Amelia looked at me with a confused expression, but answered the door.

I peered over. It was Bill’s new daytime guy. I didn’t know his name, but I recognized him from around town doing his errands. He even came into Merlotte’s from time to time. He was a nice guy, if a little quiet, but most vampire daytime men tended to be loner types anyway.

“I have something for Sookie Stackhouse from Mr. Compton,” he said in an official, very respectful sort of way. He thrust a small velvet pouch and a small envelope at me.

“Can this wait?” Tara asked, tapping her foot. “We really need to get her downstairs.”

“Just a minute,” I said, smiling politely at the man in the doorway. I opened the envelope carefully as not to chip the manicure I’d gotten this morning. Inside was a card and on it Bill had written a note in his careful, antique script:

“Dearest Sookie,” it began, “I hope that you do not interpret this gift the wrong way. I know that this is not a food processor or toaster oven,” it continued (I could picture Bill saying the words “food processor” and “toaster oven” with a tone of unfamiliarity and distaste at technology specifically designed to prepare food that he found fundamentally disgusting.) “but consider this bauble as my wedding present to you. I know we have not seen much of each other lately, but know that I am truly happy that you are happy. If you do not find it inappropriate, I would be honored if you wore it. This is not a last ditch effort,” (I pictured him saying ‘last ditch’ the way an old man might try out slang forty years after his prime) “to win your affections, but rather a gesture of goodwill. You will always have a special place in my heart. Congratulations. Bill.”

Tara snatched the card from my hands as soon as I looked away and at the velvet pouch. I pulled the string and poured the contents into my hand: a bracelet made of beautiful mother-of-pearl beads. It looked as old as Bill was.

When I looked up, Amelia was reading the card and Tara was looking at me with a look of impatience. Bill’s daytime man had left, and I was standing there with the bracelet in my palm, looking to my friends for what I should do.

“Well, he’s right,” Tara said, “it’s no Crock Pot.”

“It’s beautiful,” Amelia said, picking up the bracelet and fastening it around my wrist.

“Is it inappropriate?” I asked skeptically.

Amelia shrugged. “He knows he’s not the one you’re marrying. And plus, it goes perfectly with your earrings.”

Tara didn’t look quite so sure. “Isn’t this just like the vamps? Say one thing and mean another? What if he is trying to win you back? Planting a little seed of doubt or something.”

I knew that Tara had a fundamental mistrust of vampires, with good reason, and Bill hadn’t always been completely honest with me. But I also didn’t think he would sabotage my wedding, and if he had been planning on planting a seed of doubt, he hadn’t been successful.

“I trust Bill,” I said. “If I owe Bill anything after all these years, it’s at least that.”

“Whatever you say,” Tara replied. I could tell she was still unconvinced, but I was glad she wasn’t pushing it. “We really need to get you down there. Can’t let the groom sweat too long.”

I smiled, and Amelia ran ahead to get my bouquet out of the refrigerator. 

“You ready?” Tara asked.

Tears prickled in my eyes again. The good kind. 

I was.

::

My front yard had been transformed into a spectacular I never knew that it could be. Even with my gravel driveway, it looked completely different. I’d have to make sure I sent Quinn a gushing thank you note.

Tara helped lead me out the screen door, careful that the hem of my skirt didn’t catch on stealth nails and splinters.

On the front lawn people sat in rows of bamboo chairs painted gold. At the end of each row was a small bouquet of white and yellow roses. We thought about assigning a bride side and groom side, but considering we both knew everyone pretty equally, we made it a free-for-all, with seats reserved only for Sam’s small family and my little cousin, Hunter, and his dad. 

Up front there was an arch constructed out of latticed wood draped in cream fabric. I knew that the pastor of the Renard Parish Church stood waiting at the end of the aisle, but I decided I didn’t want to look yet.

“Damn, Sook,” I heard a familiar voice say once I was out of the house and standing on the porch. My brother Jason stood in his khaki groomsman suit, a white rose pinned to his lapel. “You look beautiful,” he said. I wasn’t sure if I should have taken the compliment for what it was, or if I should have been a little insulted that he looked so genuinely surprised. It was my day, and I decided to take it as a compliment.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You ready?” he asked, proffering his arm to me. I had no family aside him to walk me down the aisle, and I was glad that I didn’t even have to twist his arm to get him to do it.

The music was already playing, which I had only registered peripherally—the soft violins playing Canon in D. The May evening had dulled the sunlight, so it had cooled after the hot afternoon, leaving a pleasant cool feeling that accompanies the hours just before dark. 

Before I knew what was happening, Tara and Amelia both threw me a wink as they took the arm of their respective groomsmen and began down the aisle themselves.

My heart picked up in double time and I could feel a bead of sweat forming on my forehead. I took my brother’s arm to steady myself.

“S’all right, Sook,” he whispered, sensing my nerves. “As long as you know that this is what you want, everything will be all right.”

Those were rare words of wisdom coming from my brother, but when I thought about it, I knew he was right. And I knew, I knew that this was the right decision. It was so much so that I knew it wasn’t even a decision: it was the way the path had led the entire time; I’d only taken a few detours (maybe more than a few) along the way.

In that instant my rising panic stopped, and I looked up--all the way down the aisle. 

There he was, meeting me there. Sam Merlotte stood waiting for me standing next to the pastor, an enormous grin plastered on his face.

And he was mine.

The music suddenly changed to the wedding march, or maybe it wasn’t so sudden and it only seemed like it, but soon Jason was tugging my arm and nudging his head to tell me to walk, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that no, no, this was going too fast. That there was too much to take in and I wasn’t getting it all, that my five senses weren’t enough and I was missing all the good parts—so I opened the floodgates.

A deluge of voices rushed inside my head. It was a relief, taking down the barrier, but my aim wasn’t to listen to the crowd of people on either side of me. I concentrated, whittling down the voices around me as best as I could until I was focused on just one, the internal monologue of Sam Merlotte.

It was vague, still, what with him being a Shifter, but I winked at him, hoping that he would get the picture that I had decided to listen.

“You hear me, cher?” he asked silently, knowing I could hear, but still many feet down the aisle. I nodded slightly, smiling. His mind was buzzing, a web of emotion I didn’t think even he could work through. There was lust and want, nervousness and tension; he was self-conscious and impatient, victorious and humble. 

But most of all, I noticed, after I realized that we had finally stopped and Jason was kissing my cheek and nodding good-naturedly at Sam, was the almost overwhelming presence of love that Sam was broadcasting so loudly that, as corny as it sounds, I thought my knees might buckle.

The sensation was soothing enough that I could tune out the chatter from the people behind me. It wasn’t something I’d never felt before—his brain was buzzing with it all the time, but since I’d opened the doors, so to speak, it was like he was practically shouting love from a mountaintop. I had to admit, if this is what Sam was projecting all the time, it might be worth keeping my mind open more often.

While I mused, I realized that the pastor had been saying something, and a little mental tug from Sam pulled me back into the moment. Damn! I thought, I missed something. But soon Sam was talking, and I locked my eyes onto his, hearing nothing from the crowd, only the pull of his breath and the corresponding rise and fall of his chest.

“Sookie,” he started, his voice quaking briefly, “we’ve been friends longer than we’ve been anything else. And maybe we weren’t always on the same page romantically, but we’ve always been there for each other, even when we’re spitting mad at one another.” He paused and chuckled before continuing. “What I’m trying to say, Sookie, is that in the end, we both got here. It’s been an interesting road--” there was a tittering of quiet laughter from the audience, no doubt many of them remembering when Sam revealed he was a Shifter, or the fact that I’d dated more than one vampire, or the fact that a handful of them also knew about my other…gift. 

“It’s been an interesting road,” he continued, “but I think it always led here. You’re my best friend, Sookie Stackhouse, and the love of my life, and I think it was the second best decision of my life when I hired you at the bar.”

“What was the first best decision?” I blurted loudly. Jason laughed from behind Sam. 

“Asking you to marry me.”

My face flushed pink. 

“Ms. Stackhouse, you’ve prepared your own vows as well?” the pastor asked after a beat.

I nodded. I often found it woefully hard to memorize things verbatim, so in writing and practicing my vows, I made it my goal just to remember the essence of the words. I might not be a great liar, but I am a good improviser.

“Sam,” I began, “there have been so many times that I’ve been so mad at you that I haven’t even been able to form the words.” He cringed slightly. “And there have also been times when I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life--which are actually most of the time,” I added as an afterthought, and Sam chuckled. “But my point is that even when I’ve been angry with you, I’ve always known that I can get back to you in the end. You’ve been a constant, and I love you. Thank you for waiting for me.”

“Anytime, cher,” he said with a crooked smile.

The pastor said a few more words, and before long we were exchanging rings. The entire ceremony felt like it was moving too quickly, as if every other wedding ceremony I’d ever been to had been so much longer and that I was somehow being ripped off during my moment.

But that’s how it is, isn’t it? Joy makes life speed up and burn by. 

I settled into a warm feeling of contentment that began taking over my body. It was comfortable and sunny and I wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world. So when the pastor pronounced us husband and wife, I didn’t hear much more than a distant echo of Jason’s whooping and the guests’ cheering as Sam leaned in and kissed me. Instead I focused on the softness of his lips, and the little cocoon of happiness we’d made for ourselves.

END


End file.
